


Luck Be A Lady

by brynna



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-02
Updated: 2010-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-08 15:57:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brynna/pseuds/brynna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post "All In." House finds Cameron taking a nap on the balcony, and what follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Luck Be A Lady

**Author's Note:**

> Standard Disclaimer Stuff: The "House MD" characters presented herein, Dr. Gregory House and Dr. Allison Cameron, belong, unfortunately, to David Shore and the Fox Network. I swear I won't harm The Limping Twerp and The Stuffed Animal Made by Grandma. I'm just taking them out for a bit of fun.
> 
> This was written in reply for another H/C Smut-A-Thon Challenge - #3. The fic had to refer in some way to the scene from episode "All In" where House reacts to Cameron's appearance. The smut in question had to take place somewhere in the hospital. One of the following lines had to be incorporated into the fic:
> 
> "He stared at her in disbelief." "How hard does it have to be?" "Why are you so stubborn?" "Just shut up already."  
> Heh. I did all THREE of them! ::preens::
> 
> Warning: I am not accountable for mistakes made if you happen to read this at work.
> 
> Mwah.

"Well, it's time for a windfall  
Not a single minute too soon  
I've been too long overdue  
Now I'm gonna shoot the moon  
I'd bet it all on a good run of bad luck  
Seven come eleven and she could be mine  
Luck be a lady  
And I'm gonna find love  
Coming on the bottom line."

"A Good Run of Bad Luck" - Clint Black and Hayden Nicholas

* * *

What a night.

Allison Cameron paused to let her forehead rest on her hands, feeling the long night finally catching up with her. The adrenaline of piecing together the puzzle was gone, leaving her a mess of jangling nerves. Right now the patient was likely sleeping, his parents probably curled up in recliners next to him. I should do the same, she thought tiredly.

Slowly she rose to her feet, gathering the case files to leave on House's desk for him to go over later. She knew he would be comparing the two cases side-by-side, filing away what they'd learned from the ordeal somewhere in a corner of that brilliant mind. One quick flick of her wrist saw the files land gracefully on his desk; she yawned and stretched, wondering about her next course of action.

Relax, of course, she thought. Given the state of her nerves right then, relaxation probably wouldn't come easy. Her gaze fell onto the door leading from House's office to the balcony, where outdoor furnishings, including her favorite reclining chaise lounge, awaited her. Decision made, she made for the door, pausing at the site of a white lab coat shoved hastily on a bottom book shelf. Could always use an extra layer from the morning air, she thought, feeling a tinge of mischief as she retrieved House's never-in-use lab coat, draped it over her arm and stepped out onto the balcony, where the sky was just starting to turn faintly orange with the imminent sunrise.

The wooden chaise lounge was in her favorite location, diagonal across one corner of the balcony. With a sigh of relief she kicked off her high heels, removed her lab coat and draped it over the lounge to protect her bare shoulders from the wood. She then stretched out on the lounge and drew House's lab coat over her body and up to those same shoulders. His made a much nicer blanket, she thought with amusement, taking in the faint whiff of cigars, cologne, and the faint spicy scent of the man himself. Hmm. Wonder if I could get away with sneaking his lab coat home and tucking it under my pillow at night? At the thought she smiled wistfully. Oh, to be sixteen again, when doing something silly and girlish like that was acceptable, she mused.

As she dozed off the memory of House turning from the white board, his jaw dropping at the sight of her, a gasp escaping him to go with his pole-axed expression; all crept into her thoughts and made her smile widen. Yes, the dress had been worth every penny, she decided as she finally fell asleep.

* * *

Greg House figured that he and James Wilson were just about even after that last poker game. Once everyone had left for the evening the real games had begun, with the stakes more than poker chips. Cleaning crews surrounded the two as they played a couple of hands, getting a glare from Greg when one had tentatively suggested he put out his now-lit cigar.

After the last hand he refused a ride home from James and slowly limped his way to the elevator, then his office. He took off his tux jacket and threw it across the desk along with the bowtie, then reached into his bottom desk drawer for the flask. Later he'd hop on his bike and for home, but for now a glass of Scotch to go with his cigar was just the thing needed to finish off a long night. He needed to retreat, to pull his thoughts together and let his mind slow down enough to absorb the events of the entire evening. Balcony, Scotch, and cigar. Perfect.

Fancy gatherings and fancy clothing were supposed to go with romance, he thought ruefully. Yet there he was, alone as he poured the Scotch into a glass and swirled it around. Beautiful night called for an equally beautiful woman in his arms. You blew that one a long time ago, dumb ass, he thought glumly. Still, I did what was best for her. I could not let her chain herself to an old, bitter drug addict like me. I couldn't.

Only… he paused at the balcony door, his eyes taking in the woman reclined in the wooden chaise lounge. Dear God help me, he thought as he stared at her in disbelief. The last thing he'd ever expected to see was Cameron snuggled down under his lab coat, a portion of the collar curled into one palm and under her cheek. She was burying herself into it, he realized, feeling his grip tighten on his cane. Her bare shoulders peaked tantalizingly above the make-shift blanket, causing his fingers to twitch in restraint. The beginnings of the sunrise made her look vulnerable, enhanced by the fact that she was asleep.

He knew better.

If there was one thing he'd come to realize about Allison Cameron is that her vulnerability was one of her strengths, if not her greatest. She used it to let patients in, and then in turn they let her in. For all that he'd ridiculed her about that trait, many times her openness had proved to be invaluable and an asset to the team.

Greg wanted to be a part of that.

He wanted to find his way inside of her, enjoy all of her little complications that made her so utterly female and uniquely Allison Cameron; in turn he longed to do the same for her. Greg had not shared in a long time and for all of his cynicism, his hardened attitude, he hurt inside with emptiness, self-inflicted as it was.

She made him hurt inside knowing she could fill it.

Slowly, as quietly as he could, Greg pulled up a small wooden patio chair and sat down, leaning forward and propping his chin on his cane handle as he continued to gaze at Allison. Wilson would say he was mooning over her and perhaps that was true. Fortunately she was asleep and couldn't see the raw emotion in his eyes.

You can correct all of that, idiot, he admonished himself. How hard does it have to be? Just reach out and touch…

Much to his surprise, his fingers were ahead of his brain. Way ahead.

* * *

The softness of a callused fingertip caressing her cheek, finally settling on where she'd drawn his lab coat up against her skin, the squeeze of a hand on hers, but not releasing, caused her to stir awake. Her eyelids fluttered open and she found herself drowning in a sea of sky blue. Don't break the moment, she thought, forcing herself not to return the caress and instead holding his gaze with her steady one.

"You're getting cooties on my lab coat," he finally said gruffly, his fingertip tracing where the coat met her pale flesh. She drew in a breath and let it out slowly.

"And I'm getting cooties from your lab coat."

"Mine don't use girlie g's."

She laughed softly, the sound shooting straight to his groin. "You don't mind so much," she said teasingly, stretching her arms up and arching her back into it. If she keeps that up I'm going to ravish her on the spot, he thought hungrily. Why are you so stubborn? There were worse things they could be doing on that balcony. He took a deep breath and as she came out of the stretch lowered his head to hers.

The kiss was tentative, his lips trembling as much as hers. Her hands slid up his shoulders, fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. Slowly he rotated his head, felt her intake of breath, and nearly threw caution to the wind. Instead he lifted his head and let his forehead rest against hers. Give them both time to think, regroup.

"Allison, are you sure? I mean…"

He got no further as she grasped his head in her hands. "Just shut up already and kiss me, dammit," she said in a low, fierce tone. Who am I to disagree? he wondered just as she pulled his mouth to hers. That time it wasn't slow; her lips parted for his tongue, which was probing, sliding, taking possession of her mouth. When she responded in kind he let out a low growl and pulled her up against him, the kiss deepening. He felt her gasp against his mouth; he wound his arms around her slender frame and groaned at the feel of her finally against him.

"Hou—Greg," she said on a sigh when his mouth found its way down her neck. When his tongue darted out to flick at her pulse point a whimper escaped her. Unless she was mistaken he was smiling, his teeth lightly nipping at her tender skin. "No hickeys there," she admonished softly, getting a low chuckle from him. He began trailing kisses down to her clavicle, then over the rise of her breasts, his hands sliding up and down along her spine. Such hands, she thought, moaning when his tongue dipped down into her cleavage, his fingertips moving to follow. A shiver went through her when those same fingers slid back around and paused at the zipper going up the back of her dress.

"Allison, may I?" His voice was husky against her skin, his stubble lightly teasing at her.

"I-I'll scream if you don't."

The coolness of the early morning air caressed her spine as he slowly slid the zipper down to her behind, his fingertips grazing against her as he went. Then he caressed his way back up, pausing briefly at the catches on her strapless bra before he effortlessly unhooked it and let it fall to the wayside.

Now nude to the waist, Allison felt a flush creep across her cheeks and down; her eyes shut, anticipating his touch. When it didn't happen she opened them again to find Greg looking away from her, taking one deep breath after another. "Greg?" she said softly, wincing inwardly at the raw need in her voice. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, then finally looked at her.

"I-I… dammit, Allison, you… I'm afraid that I'll…"

"What?" Slowly she ran the palms of her hands along his shoulders, then down the front of his shirt to the first button.

"Oh, hell," he finally muttered. "I'm afraid once I get my hands on you that I'll just want to fuck you raw and skip foreplay."

Soft laughter came from her as she finished unbuttoning his shirt, then reached to tug it out of his slacks. For a long moment she took in the expanse of skin revealed to her, the light dusting of chest hair, pectoral muscles that… she gave in and wound her arms around him underneath the shirt, bringing their skin together. They moaned simultaneously at the contact, his hands grasping her hips and pulling her forward until she was astride his lap.

"Better," he muttered, letting one hand slide up to cup a breast, rake across one of the nipples that poked into his chest. "You're so soft." His voice was low, husky, as he bent her back and lowered his head. When his mouth opened across the other nipple she cried out softly, arching into him. Her hips thrust of their own accord, feeling his hardening length tease her through his slacks.

Then he was moving from breast-to-breast, soft groans of delight coming from him at her reaction to his mouth, his tongue and teeth; even the feel of his stubble as he raked it across her tender skin. She was getting so wet she was soaking his slacks, he thought, feeling male smugness rise within him. Even through the morning air her scent rose to assail his nostrils, causing him to thrust up against her. One hand dropped to her stockinged thigh, then slid up the delicate fabric, pausing at the realization that she was wearing stay ups. Just her panties stood between them, he thought, forcing himself to go slow.

Allison hadn't been idle either. Her tiny fingers skimmed down his chest, pausing to etch circles around the flat nipples that begged to be caressed. She pinched them lightly and he growled low in his throat, his grip tightening on her.

"You are so asking for it, lady," he said huskily, his hand moving ever so slowly up to her panties. At the contact of lace he grinned, skimming his fingers along the waistband. "Nothing but a thong, Allison?" he teased, dipping one finger in to graze along her pubic hair, then withdrawing it when she whimpered.

"Greg, please." Her voice was pleading, hips wiggling in an effort to draw his hand up closer. In return she received a low laugh, another teasing flick of his finger along her panty line.

She'd had enough. Her fingers came to rest on his zipper, caressing the bulge that lay beneath. Much to her satisfaction he let out a groan, then a gasp when she unzipped his slacks and slid her hand inside to find his hardened length. Slowly she traced her nails along his cock, then wrapped her hand around it and started to stroke.

"Allison," he muttered against her lips, his breath hitching when her nails raked against his balls. Somehow he found the strength to undo the side ties of her thong, then let it fall from her. It was her turn to gasp, her hand on his cock stilled as he slid his hand along her wet feminity and cupped her. "God, you're hot," he groaned out, taking in how soaked she was, how she shuddered when he probed and caressed her folds.

For a moment he pulled his hand out, then dragged his thumb across her bottom lip, leaving her essence there. Before she had a chance to react he let out a growl and drew her lip into his mouth, his tongue lapping up her flavor. He then licked the rest off of his fingers, his eyes never leaving hers, teasing and making her squirm at the sight.

Suddenly his hands fell to her waist and pulled her to her feet. "Hang onto me," he muttered as he cupped her buttocks and pulled the crest of her thighs to his mouth, draping her skirt over his head in the process. A shudder escaped her when he parted her folds with his free hand, then dove in with his tongue.

It took everything she had to keep standing. Her motor skills nearly vanished, one hand digging into his hair, the other into his shoulder as he relentlessly devoured her. When his teeth found her clit she let out a sobbing moan, her hips thrusting of their own accord against the onslaught. Then the feel of one, two fingers probing, filling her caused her throw her head back and groan, the beginnings of spasms starting to coil within her.

"Too … much … Greg …" A third finger slid inside of her, stretching, curving until he found the one spot, the place guaranteed to make her lose her mind. He felt her shudder, her inner walls clenched around his fingers and she cried out, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she sagged against him.

Allison felt him kiss his way up her body, finally meeting her lips, her taste on his tongue. "You okay?" he asked softly, holding her while she trembled, easing her slowly back down to his lap. Her head came to rest on his shoulder; she was aware of him shifting, retrieving his wallet from his back pocket.

"You want to do the honors?"

She lifted her head to see Greg's blue eyes lit with mischief and lust all rolled into one as he held up a condom packet. "Sure, if I can manage to keep my hands from shaking," was her reply as she retrieved it from him and began opening the foil packet.

"That good, huh?" Damn him and that sudden smug smile that spread out across his features.

"Yes, that good." When she rolled her eyes at him he chuckled, then groaned when she slowly rolled the latex sheath down his cock. She rose, leaned into him, mindful of his right leg; he lifted her up and over, then brought her down as he slowly began to fill her.

"Greg," she whispered against his lips as he guided her up and down, penetrating further with each stroke. He gave her a quick nod, his eyes closing, head tipping back. Finally he was completely inside of her, hard, thick, caressing every nerve ending.

"God, Allie," he muttered, thrusting up harder with each stroke. "So goddamned tight, so perfect." His hands dug into her hips and would probably leave bruises on her tender skin. She didn't care. Instead she rode him with abandon, feeling heat building up in her center again. His cock suddenly grew harder within her; in response she felt a spasm spread out from her lower half in waves.

"Please, Greg, harder…"

"Allison!"

Damn, there couldn't be anything more beautiful than the sight of Allison Cameron in the throws of orgasm, he thought just as his own climax slammed into him like a freight train. He clutched her to him, burying his face in her neck while he emptied inside of her.

He became aware of her hand caressing his hair, her lips gently pressing against his forehead. He hadn't come so hard in his life, he realized, enjoying the feel of still being inside of her even without an erection. Still, they couldn't stay there all day. Before long the cleaning crew would likely work their way to the Diagnostics Department and the last thing he wanted was for Allison to be embarrassed over something as beautiful as what they'd just shared.

"Allie?"

"Uhm?"

He grinned at the thought of her being as satiated as he was. "We need to get out of here. Don't want to get caught with our pants down."

Snort. "Bad, House." Nevertheless she lifted off of him, her cheeks flushed as she shyly lifted her dress back up over her breasts. He pulled the condom off, winked at her and looked over at the rail several feet away.

"Should I throw it over the side and see where it lands?" he said, watching her flush heighten. "Maybe it'll land on Cuddy… no, wait, it's Saturday, she won't be in. Damn." At the look of reproval on Allison's face he pretended to pout, then cautiously stood up, wincing at the sudden stab of pain in his right thigh. "Don't," he said sternly to her, effectively cutting off any words of concern. She nodded and shut her mouth, much to his relief. "Worth it," he added, leaning to kiss her briefly before grabbing his cane and limping into the office, where he disposed of the condom. He'd pop a Vicodin once he got home.

Once back out on the balcony he found her struggling to zip her dress back up. "Allow me," he murmured, brushing her hands aside and easily putting her to rights. He noticed how nervous she was as she turned to face him again, uncertainty written all over her features.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently, reaching to push a stray strand of hair back from her face.

"I don't know, I mean… oh, hell, Greg," she finally said, tapping her foot nervously.

"Tell you what." His hand wandered down to a bare shoulder, the corners of his eyes crinkling with delight when she sighed. "Why don't we go back to my place and… discuss it." He repressed a big smile at the look of sheer happiness that sprang all over her beautiful features.

"I would love that," she breathed, giggling when he crossed his eyes and twisted his face into something nearly unrecognizable. Still laughing, she leaned on his left arm and allowed him to lead her out of the office. No matter how many hands he'd lost that night, he'd won what he really wanted, House thought as he escorted her down to the parking deck, then home.


End file.
